The Black Parade
by TaiDollWave
Summary: Alfred decides that he and Bruce need to participate in a little more community outreach. How better to do that than to take in three misguided youths?  CRACKFIC!
1. 1 Teenagers

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bruce asked uneasily. It was rare that he questioned the butler, his most trusted companion, but this... This had come out of left field.

"Of course, sir. You're always saying that we should do more for the community!" Alfred beamed as he set a vase farther back on the table. "And they are troubled youths. I thought that a summer here at the Manor would do them some good!"

"Well yes, but I won't be here." he pointed out. "You're going to have to deal with them on your own. Are you sure that you can do that?"

"Are you implying I couldn't?" the older man asked darkly.

"No no! Not at all. I'm just saying that if they're as troubled as the county says they are, you're probably going to need a little extra help." he sighed.

"Nonsense! I'm sure they're good hearted children deep down." just then the white van pulled up and the three children piled out. There was one dressed completely in black, wearing heavy sunglasses and hair dyed blue. A long skirt swished as she walked, her boots sinking into the gravel of the driveway. The boy, tall and reedy had long hair tied back into a ponytail. He was wearing a leather jacket and the rattiest shoes Bruce had ever seen. But he stopped to offer his hands to the other girl in the van, who was taller than the first and dressed in jeans and t-shirt with that yellow mouse thing on it. Who was it? Pikachu.

Instead of trying to rush to the house, the three of them stood around. The girl in black was crocheting with a ball of fine crochet cotton. The girl in the Pikachu shirt hopped down next to him and pulled a handheld gaming device out of her pocket. The boy hovered over her shoulder, intensely talking to her and tapping the screen.

"Yeah... Somewhere REALLY deep down." Bruce muttered. Alfred shot him a filthy look and threw the door open.

"Hello! Welcome!" he called as he bustled out. The boy and girl with the handheld device waved briefly. The crocheting girl hadn't seemed to notice. He accepted a clipboard from the social worker, signing a few papers as their luggage was piled behind them.

"Well, shall we get you into the mansion to get you settled?"

The boy and girl shrugged, not looking up from the screen again. Alfred felt helpless almost instantly.

"What are your names?" the two glanced up and the girl heaved a huge sigh.

"Can I save this before we start doing this whole talking thing?" the butler blinked, nonplussed. He dutifully remained silent in the late spring day as she pressed a few buttons and switched off the device.

"I'm Melody," she said as she left her finger on the power switch. "Talking time over."

"Erm," his eyes slid over to the boy who shrugged.

"I'm Calen." he mumbled. "Hi," he turned back to the game, intense on whatever was going on. Two strikes out of three... He turned to the other girl and wondered how she wasn't melting in her clothes. The shirt was long sleeved, even. But she had just kept crocheting, her hook darting in and out of the thread, an intricate looking choker appearing in her hands.

"And who might you be?" he prompted, trying to sound pleasant. This close he could see the black lipstick she was wearing, the traces of eyeliner that had run down her cheeks. She didn't seem to respond, her fingers flying.  
>"Hello?" he looked towards the other two. Perhaps they had sent him a special needs girl without a<p>

proper warning. Well, no matter. "Do you two speak sign language?"

"Huh?" Calen looked up. "Oh, she can't hear you 'cause of this." he reached over and tugged a black wire, a small earbud popping out of her ear. Tinny and far away, Alfred could hear the twang of electric guitars and the steady thumping of drums.

"What?" the girl squeaked as she looked up, peering over her dark glasses. "Oh. Uh... Hi."

"Hello," there was a pause. "And who are you?" Already he was feeling exhausted. They hadn't even made it into the Manor yet. He looked longingly at the end of the driveway. The van had disappeared long ago. Too late to put them back on it.

"Moria," she licked her lips and squinted. "Can we go inside? It's way sunny out here."

"What a pretty name." he said desperately as they lifted up their things.

"It means death," she threw over her shoulder. Alfred stared, giving Bruce a dirty look as he tried to hide his laughter. He trudged in after them. This was going to be a long summer.


	2. Youth of the Nation

_AN: I feel like I should explain. This fic is, at its heart, a joke. I was up early with two of my friends eating breakfast (which for me was cereal bars and cranberry juice) when I wondered out loud how much sugar The Batman would let us have. It then turned into Alfred being the problem and—this happened. It's silly, but we're amused! Just stay with me on this. Thanks._

The three of them stood awkwardly in the front hall, Bruce Wayne regarding them with an amused glance. They seemed rather uncomfortable while Alfred had run to go and make a phone call. Probably he was trying to see just how long it would be before he could send them back where they came from.

"So, just where is it that you three come from?"

"Gotham City Group Home." Calen shrugged.

"Been there long?" it was a place that housed the children that even foster care had failed to find a good place for. It was for the deliquents fresh on probation, the children too old to be cute anymore, and the children that were just plain difficult.

_They look kind of cute. _Bruce thought. _Bet they're difficult._

"I've been there about four years." the boy shrugged again. It appeared to be his trademark.

"I've been there two." Pikachu girl was tapping at her game device, obviously eager to get back to battling zombies, or catching those terrifying monster thingies, or saving the princess. Whatever it was kids did these days.

"This place is really pretty." Miss Gothic America drawled, looking towards the ceiling. "Is it haunted? Do you have chandeliers?"

"Mo!" the boy nudged her. "Come on, put a lid on the creepy and answer the questions."

"I've been a resident at City Home for about a year now." she looked at Bruce, pushing her glasses on top of her head. She looked him up and down and crossed her arms over her chest. "See, Calen? I know how to be a regular member of society."

"Do not," he mumbled. "But we love you anyway."

"What are you all in for?" they stared. "Don't play coy with me, guys. I know what's up." they all squirmed and looked uncomfortable.

"I don't think that's a proper question to ask young ladies and a gentleman you barely know. I mean, I didn't ask you how much your house cost." Gothic America set her chin.

"I think I have the right to know what kind of hoodlums have been brought here." he raised an eyebrow.

"I resent that. How do you know we're hoodlums?" the bad James Dean impersonator glared.

"Yeah! That's a big assumption." Pikachu girl put her hands on her hips.

"Prove me wrong and tell me who you are then." he prompted.

"I'm an orphan!" Pikachu girl cried. "There! See? You were wrong about me." He rolled his eyes and looked expectantly at the boy.

"I ran away from home." he picked at his nails. "Things there sucked, I left, I got put into the state's custody."

"Aaaand that just leaves you." he looked at the Goth, whose eyes were darting all over the house anxiously. She licked at her lips again, seemingly eager to figure out a way to avoid the question. She looked down at her shoes.

"I'm on probation. I just got released from Gotham Juvenile Hall." she mumbled, her glasses sliding down her face again, obscuring the look in her eyes.

"And what was it that you did?" he prompted. Had Alfred bothered to look things up about these kids at all? The orphan and the runaway he could deal with. But a criminal? What's up with that? Didn't Alfred know better?

"I may or may not have had a case of sudden stickyfingeritis in a department store." she kept her face turned down to her shoes. "And I may or may not have managed to put about four diamond rings and a strand of pearls into my pockets before I walked out."

"That's..." he paused. Actually, it was impressive. She looked pretty young to be able to pick the locks on any of the jewelry cases. Of course, he couldn't say that to her. No sense in encouraging kids like this.

"But why didn't you go home after that?"

"I don't exactly have one to go to." she lifted her chin to meet him straight in the face. Bruce paused. Before he could respond, Alfred returned looking defeated and crushed.

"Well, assorted children. It looks like you're here through the end of August, at which time we may or may not decide to extend your stay." he looked at the group of them. Melody wiping at her eyes with the heels of her hands, Celan with his arms crossed, standing close to Melody. And Bruce and Moria in some kind of stare down.

"How about I take you up to your rooms?" the tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Whatever Bruce had been discussing clearly had upset the kids. Well, he thought, that was bound to

happen. The one thing they were probably going to loathe about being here was Bruce.

Not that he hadn't already told Alfred how he felt about this whole endeavor. He sighed and gestured the children to gather their things. How was it they each only seemed to have a duffel bag to last them the whole summer? That didn't seem right. He'd probably need to work on getting some clothes. Though Celan could wear Master Dick's things... He had no idea what to do with the girls.

Girls were such mysterious creatures.

He walked them up the stairs, pretending not to hear the hissed words between Melody and Celan.

"I really don't like to talk about my parents."

"I know, Mel. We'll never have to discuss it with him again. Really," he squeezed her around the shoulders. "Relax and don't fuss about it." he glanced behind him at the Undead Princess, brooding behind those glasses.

"Doin' all right back there, MoMo?"

"He shall fear the fury of a thousand suns." she said darkly.

"That's nice," he rolled his eyes at Melody, who hid her giggle behind her palm.

"Well, here we are." he opened one door. "I thought this would do for Master Celan. A young man used to sleep here and he liked it very well." the room still smelled like boy. The bed was already made up with a dark colored comforter, and there was a telescope set up in the window.

"And across the halls, I have two lovely rooms." he opened the doors, revealing canopy beds and frilly white blankets. "Just perfect for a young lady."

The walls were painted pink. Moria's nose crinkled and she gave him a look that somehow made him feel like a worm squirming beneath one of those Victorian boots of hers. She rolled her eyes and dragged her bag inside.

"I'll leave you three to unpack and wash up for supper. The bathroom next to Master Celan's room is where you'll be bathing." they stared at him silently. He found their silence unnerving, especially given the way that their eyes would dart to one another and they seemed able to communicate without words.

"Dinner is in an hour." Celan and Melody sank into their rooms, closing the doors behind them. Moria left hers open and perched on the lacy cover of her bed, looking out of place and rather like a specter of death come to take the soul of an ill child. "Go ahead and unpack," he said gently.

"There's no point. You won't keep us."


	3. Ten Black Roses

"So, what do you two think?" Celan bounced on his toes. They had convened in Moria's room, and the other two looked rather expectantly at her, hoping she would give one of her quips, or put into speech what they were all thinking.

"Don't get comfortable." she crossed her legs, wrapping her hands over her knees. "That's all I have to say."

"I don't know, it is nice here." Melody said hesitantly. "He obviously has money. And the old dude said that we could extend our stay. You know you love old houses." she coaxed.

"Yeah, he's bound to have some neat stuff here." Celan smiled. Moria did not.

"He can see right through us, guys. This isn't what we had planned on."

"I know, but sometimes better things come along to ruin plans." the boy pointed out. There was a heavy quiet between the three of them. Melody vacated the small golden chair placed in front of the vanity in the corner of the room. She went and stood behind Celan, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"And sometimes worse things come along. Look, you two can do whatever you want. That's not my choice. But I know that it isn't really the old dude that's going to be the bother here. It's the younger one, and he doesn't like what he sees. Bruce Wayne is a powerful man and if wants to make us miserable, he'll do it. I'll just prepare myself for that." she stood up too. "Dinner is in like, five minutes.

Wash your faces and hands."

"Do you think they're gay?" Melody asked as they huddled at sink, pumping fruit scented antibacterial soap into their palms.

"Who? Is who gay?"

"The old dude and Wayne."

"What them? No, they're not gay! He's the butler." he scoffed and then paused. "They probably have some kind of bromance going on here, though."

"What do you think about what she said?"

"Mo's the queen of pessimism. Not that she doesn't have a reason to be." he dried his hands and held out the towel to her. "I just think she has a hard time looking on the brighter side of things that's all."

"Do you think they'll throw us out?"

"I think it's too soon to say," he pecked her cheek. "Don't worry. If they throw you out, I'll go with you. They can't keep one of us and not the other."

"What about Moria?" he looked uncomfortable.

"She'll be okay. You know she said she doesn't want to drag us down with her." he shifted his weight. "There's a lot about her you don't know. Don't worry about her, okay, hon?" he opened the bathroom door. "Now let's go and get something to eat."

Down in the dining room, three extra places were set. Celan sat on Bruce's right side, and Melody sat next to him. That left Moria alone on Bruce's left. Alfred came into the room with a casserole dish and began serving out macaroni and cheese.

Goth Girl's face turned green. Bruce was aware of the other two exchanging looks and kicking one another under the table. She waited for everyone to have been served before she lifted her for and poked it into the noodles.

Alfred came and joined them a moment later, parking himself next to her. She stared at the plate, unable to speak or move. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn't seem aware. She bowed her head, blue locks sweeping in from of her face.

"Is there a problem, Miss Moria?"

"I just don't like macaroni and cheese." she gulped. The other two tittered, elbowing each other. The butler saw her cheeks going pink, could feel the embarrassment radiating off her in waves.

"Why didn't you say something?" Bruce asked. 

"Well, I think it's bad manners to bust all up in someone's house and run around demanding that they never make mac and cheese again! How do I know it's not your favorite? Besides, I didn't say anything about it. He asked me," she pointed to the butler. "It's not like I was writhing on the floor declaring that you've all tried to poison me."

"You do have a flare for the dramatic, don't you?" Alfred mused.

"It's in my blood." she stood up. "May I be excused?"

"No no, sit. I'll find you something to eat. Just sit," he patted her shoulder, ignoring the way she flinched away from the gesture. Bruce gave her another long look.

"If there's something hanging out of my nose, you could save us all some time and just tell me instead of giving me those pointed looks."

"There's nothing there." he shook his head. "Maybe I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Get in line," she snorted. "I had the doctors at Arkham going nuts."

Again, the other two children laughed. But once Bruce turned his gaze to them, they suddenly found their food very interesting. Alfred came back and replaced the offending food with a tuna fish sandwich, anxious until the girl picked it up and calmly began to eat it. Relieved, he sat back down and turned to his own lukewarm food.

They ate in uncomfortable silence. The children kept looking at one another. Moria was very careful not to let her eyes land on Bruce for any reason. There was a palpable feeling of distrust in the air, bad enough to make even Alfred squirm in his seat. Once the plates were empty and the milk gone, the Englishman sighed.

"I suppose that just for tonight the three of you can go into the entertainment room and turn on the television and watch for an hour or so before your showers and bed."

"Bed?" Celan glanced at the clock. "It's eight o clock."

"So it'll be nine before you get into your showers and it'll be closer to ten thirty by the time you lay down, won't it?" he opened his mouth, but Bruce shot him a look that made him think twice.

"It's not like they didn't lock us into our dorms at City Home anyway." Moria stood up. Bruce snapped his fingers as her as she began to walk away from the table. She turned around, with fire in her light colored eyes that seemed to pop out of her face because of that ghastly eyeliner. Why would she want to make herself look dead? He wondered.

"You just did two things incorrectly, little girl. One, you got up without asking to be excused from the table. Two, you did not collect the plates from everyone who was done and carry them to the sink to rinse to be washed and dried by your cohorts here," he gestured. The three kids gaped at him.  
>"This isn't City Home. Alfred doesn't feed you industrial slop, so I think you could show him your appreciation by doing the clearing and the washing. We'll do this on a rotation." he put his hand down.<p>

Moria continued to stare at him.

"I'm sorry, did you just snap at me like I'm some kind of dog?" he decided that pointing out training dogs and kids was remarkably similar.

"It got your attention."

"You also could have called my name." she had him there. But something in her posture, the way her hands were resting on her hips, the way her eyes had narrowed. It didn't bode well with him. She was like fourteen. What right did she have to talk to him like that?

"You could also just do as you're told without arguing with me." he looked at all three of the children. "I know that you're used to be warehoused. I know you're used to be shuffled around and ignored. That isn't going to happen here. BUT, if you want to be treated like real human beings, you're going to act like it. And that means clearing the table and doing the dishes. Now scoot,"

They scrambled to do what they were told. Or rather, Celan and Melody scrambled to the kitchen. Moria slowly and deliberately began to stack the dishes. When she collected his plate, he was aware of the scent of her. It was something thick and heady, something he had smelled before and yet could not name.

"What perfume do you wear?"

"Black Roses." she turned into the kitchen. "Good night, Mr. Wayne."

Alfred turned to look in amazement at Bruce. He just smirked and took a drink from his coffee cup.

"I thought, sir, that you said you didn't want anything to do with them? I thought you said you weren't going to be available to help me?"

"I might have changed my mind." he smirked. "You might be right, Alfred. They just need a little guidance, a little hard work. We'll see what we can do with them."


End file.
